


Opposition and Flattery

by estril



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Amaurotine Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Biting, But both for like .5 seconds i swear, Choking, Dry Humping, F/M, POV Second Person, Vaginal Sex, We Die Like Men, but also i cant think of anymore so here we go, i don't think i missed any tags this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:34:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25327876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estril/pseuds/estril
Summary: "Opposition hardly correlates with flattery. If it did, I suspect you would have recognized the full extent of how much I’ve wanted you ages ago."
Relationships: Lahabrea/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Kudos: 44





	Opposition and Flattery

**Author's Note:**

> Bullying hours begin now tyvm

“Opposition hardly correlates with flattery. If it did, I suspect you would have recognized the full extent of how much I’ve _wanted_ you ages ago.”

It had been a direct, yet simple statement that had caught even you off guard. Your normally confident demeanor suddenly humbled and speechless as he lingers closer to you now, his grip on your wrist tight—but nothing you couldn’t break out of if you wanted to.

You were certain there wasn’t time. Council would convene shortly and the presence of the both of you would be required, but that didn’t hinder you from following him back to his office all the same.

The full extent of his pent up lust made clear as he was on you before the door had even fully closed. Gently coaxing you backwards against the wall beside the door frame and seeking your lips with a ravenous kiss that momentarily startles you with how intense and demanding he is against you.

You would expect nothing less from the man. In the time you had known Lahabrea, he had never been a lively individual, but he had always been passionate and intense when delivering his lectures and speaking of his interests. Demanding and unrelenting when his interest was piqued and he set his sights on what he coveted most.

It would seem that would be you, for the time being.

You were content with the idea, else you would have never followed him back to the privacy of his office where your hands now idly wander up across his chest and over his shoulders to sit at the nape of his neck, boldly giving his hood a suggestive tug. He stops you, attempting to draw back and undoubtedly chide you before your hand flattens against the back of his head to keep him in place. 

Lahabrea doesn’t resist, but it also doesn’t prevent him from scowling down at you as he remains in place.

“What’s the matter, Speaker?” You purr against his lips, watching as his eyes darken beneath his mask with your words. “Brazen enough to pin me against a wall while we have a meeting to conduct, but not enough to show me your lovely face?”

“Contrary to whatever it is you believe, just because I desire you, doesn’t mean I care to be _that_ intimate with you.”

You hum in response, a low and inquisitive sound as your eyes follow along the outline of his lips and jaw. For a man as talented with words as he was, he was a dreadful liar. However, if he preferred those kinds of games—very well. You would oblige him.

“A pity.” You make to remove yourself from him, feigning a sudden disinterest as your hands slip over his shoulders. He presses closer, chasing after you with the briefest look of confusion on his face that he promptly masks. It’s all you need to determine the sincerity of his words.

With that in mind, instead of untangling yourself fully, you instead reach for the edges of your own communal hood. Pulling it back to allow your hair to spill freely around your shoulders. His eyes follow the movement, a glint of perhaps fascination passing over him as he pulls you closer once more, grip on you relaxed.

“Am I meant to be enraptured?” He inquires mockingly, a hand coming up and lightly grasping your chin as a thumb brushes over the swell of your lips. “If so, you’re wasting time.”

“By no means.” A hand settles once more on his chest, tangling in the front of his robes to coax him into walking backwards. He allows it, silent as you guide him where you want him. “I just felt one of us should lead by example if this is to be entertaining.”

Giving him a slight shove, he leans heavily against his desk, palms flat against the surface on each side of him. It’s only when you’re leaning against him again, arms caging him in, that he attempts to capture your lips once more merely to have you avoid him. A low growl of annoyance slithering up his throat that dies almost instantly when he feels the press of your knee as it wedges between his legs.

A quick brush against him is all you need to know that he’s already highly intrigued, despite the practiced scowl he wears. You find yourself watching with rapt attention so not to miss the way his poised demeanor falters little by little. Careful to observe the slight quiver in his jaw from muscles clenched tight, and the way the tension is released when his lips part around a muted gasp when his hips shift to press downward, subtly grinding his constrained cock against your knee to ease some of the discomfort. Idly you wonder if the friction is sufficient to get him off.

Surely not, given your time restraint. 

And you’re left to wonder where was the fun in leaving him to grind against your knee until he’s made a mess of himself? You would much rather have him making a mess because of _your hands_ on him. Sobbing and pleading for more of anything you’d be willing to give to him. While fun to watch such a meticulously composed individual crack and come apart at the seams, you were curious to what you could get away with to accomplish that. Where would your dear, esteemed Speaker draw the line? 

You had an inkling of an idea as to where to begin to find out.

“Speaker,” you whisper, voice singsong to invite his attention back towards you. You press against him, urging him to lean further back on the desk as your knee presses up and up to reward him with more friction, the straining beneath his robes impossible to miss. 

Lahabrea only meets your gaze, mouth fixed into a thin line while he awaits your falsely sweet adoration. It doesn’t come, instead he sees you lean into him, closer and closer until your lips are brushing his once more. He thinks you mean to kiss him, simply to realize too late it’s a distraction as you pluck his mask away from his face. 

He blinks, taken back that you would be so bold. For a split second, all he can manage is to glare back at you, offended and stunned. Not only the nerve, but the blatant lack of respect you would have to have to assume you could just—

“You won’t be needing this,” You smile down at him, holding his mask just out of reach. Gaze free to roam along the features of his narrow and lovely face. The deep-set knitting of his brow as he stared you down for your shameless display, the harsh angles of his cheeks and jaw as they carried tension, even the minor discoloration beneath weary eyes. 

Committing every detail to memory as he attempts to maintain his calm disposition now that it left him exposed. Nothing left to disguise the slight wash of color that had crept into his cheeks. It catches your eye, tongue running along the inside of your teeth at the thought you had successfully left the man flustered and so easily.

Pressing yourself against him further has him bending further over the desk, legs spreading around the knee wedged between them. You can tell it’s uncomfortable as you reach around him and place his mask just out of reach, but you’re hoping to coax him onto his back as your hands meet at the small of his back. The tip of a finger running along his spine, up and down lazily as your other dips lower.

“We have very little time,” Your hands continue to move as you speak. One slips lower until coming to rest on the swell of his rear as the other applies more pressure as a nail continues to drag along his spine. Lahabrea tenses against you as he feels your fingers dig into him, mouth agape before shutting tightly as he clears his throat. Bodies pressed together as snugly as you were, you were certain you could feel his cock twitch in excitement against your knee. “Up onto the desk, hm?”

You can genuinely say you’re surprised to see him comply with your request so freely, only a minor huff of frustration leaving his lips as he moved and allowed you to climb atop of him. He leans back on his elbows, watching as you make yourself comfortable atop of him.

“You have me nearly laid bare before you without my mask, yet I feel _you_ won’t be showing the same courtesy towards me.”

“You are correct.” You respond with an egotistical smile, giving his chest a slight shove so he would be flat on his back. “After all, I don’t care to be _that_ intimate with you.”

He scowls at his own response being wielded against him, even though perhaps he should have foreseen it and even deserved it. It hadn’t been the truth, far from it. Instead, it had been something he hoped would deter you from thinking he had been genuine, that would lead you to consider this to be a one time fling. 

When in reality he would have liked nothing more than to be on such a level of intimacy with you. However, wanting such a thing left him conflicted. For years he had watched you, fascinated by you and your level of passion and commitment to your position, which he used as enough of a reason to grow closer to you. If only to be on cordial terms, though he had quickly learned that growing closer to you made him want you all the more.

And that was a foolish decision to pursue, he had told himself countless times. As his colleague, it would be terribly unethical of him to mix his personal life with his work, and it would be selfish of him to suggest you do the same. So he told himself that it wasn’t to be, that you would never be his and he would have to be content with that.

Then you had to go on teasing him, tonight of all nights when he was already so very weary. Innocent enough, but you had struck so close to the truth when you suggested that he must be taken with you by the way he had _picked_ on you. It made him sound so juvenile to suggest that he would stoop to adolescent teasing to convey his feelings, and in such a place as this.

He had stopped in his tracks at the suggestion, and when you had turned to inquire why, he had been powerless to prevent himself from blurting out his feelings to you. It was then as he saw the shock register on your face that he realized the mistake he had made. Yet he continued, brazenly pulling you closer and admitting a desire for you. You seemed to have taken his meaning a _different_ way, however, and it was then as he played along that he decided that if he let anything further slip that indicated towards his true feelings, it would only end poorly and that wasn’t something he preferred to drag you into.

Now he’s forced to swallow the sting he feels at his own words being used against him, and continue feigning his indifference as he feels your hands on him and the way your touch makes his heart flutter wildly in his chest.

“Esteemed Lahabrea. Honorable Speaker." Honeyed words spill from your lips, falsely sweet as they send ripples of excitement across his skin. You keep your voice low as you speak your malicious praises, so not to carry in the quiet night air.

Eyes follow your hands as they drag across and up his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your traveling fingertips, savoring the subtle shift as muscles grow taut. Your eyes meet, his gaze dark while scrutinizing every move you made atop of him.

Lahabrea only offers you a mild huff in return, face flushed the same lovely shade that creeps down his neck and surely his shoulders beneath his robes. You couldn’t refrain from thinking how pretty he looked beneath you in the low light. Hair elegantly haloed around him as he lays back, breathing slightly irregular, all the while clearly agitated and struggling to predict your next action. 

It paints the loveliest picture as a grin tugs at the corner of your lips with the thought. You had expected him to present more of a challenge, but were more than satisfied with having cajoled him over so efficiently. Though, perhaps you had done nothing at all. Perhaps it was made effortless because it’s what he wanted from you the entire time.

Your head cants to the side, hair streaming over your shoulder as you proceed to eye him. Just how long has he wanted this—wanted _you_ ; you question.

“Have you no words for me now, Speaker?” You challenged, shifting your hips back enough to just barely miss brushing against where he wanted you most. “No venom left to spew now that I have you on your back?”

"Hold your tongue, girl." His rebuttal is harsh, but lacks any real bite, instead coming out as a hoarse murmur.

“Dare I say,” You lean forward, shifting more of your weight onto him as your head dips down into the crook of his neck to allow your lips to brush against his skin, warm breath washing over him with your whisper. “ _Make me_.”

He can’t, he realizes, nor does he want to as he stills beneath you. Rather, he draws in a sharp breath and aims to become as pliable as you desire while you trail gentle kisses down the column of his throat. Your hand trails ahead of you, freeing his shoulder from his robes and exposing skin as your lips follow close behind. 

Kisses linger longer, become heavier and heated as you relish the feeling of him growing increasingly tense beneath you. It's petty of you to tease him like this, you know, but there's a part of you that's curious as to what it'll take before the carefully crafted poise falters, and your esteemed Speaker has dissolved into a writhing mess beneath your fingertips.

Your proximity carries the scent of you as strands of hair tickle and brush his face, invading his senses and obscuring his thoughts as the warmth of orange blossoms and other florals sends his head reeling and racing with each brush of your lips. Effortlessly causing all venomous responses he might have for you to perish on his tongue.

A muted groan slipping from his lips is all it takes for those kisses that trail along his collarbone to rapidly shift into the grazing of teeth. Faint nips cause him to clutch at your waist as you laugh quietly and flatten your tongue against the patch of skin.

“Do you want me?” The question is modest, but no less mocking in tone. Words muffled against skin as he feels the scrape of your teeth along his shoulder. 

It’s a bribe, he understands. Tell you what you want to hear and you’ll compensate him with what he wants. He’s admitted to it once previously, nevertheless it would seem you would have him allude to it again and again. 

“Yes.” He chokes out between clenched teeth, cursing himself for having even spewed the words in the first place. He should have known then he’d regret them before the night was through if you were involved.

“Tell me how.” You infuriate him. Teeth barely sinking into his skin with his choked admission. It’s not enough to mar nor enough to give him the sweet sting of your bite he craves.

“Right now. On this damned desk, if you’d be so kind as to hurry along before we're missed elsewhere."

You laugh genuinely to that, and it resonates through him and settles warmly in his chest. He grimaces, knowing it’s a sound he won’t soon be forgetting. Moreso that he finds he doesn’t prefer to forget as it's the sweetest sound he's enticed from you.

“My, my, I never knew you to be so impatient, Lahabrea.” You scoff with a click of your tongue, leaning back from him to draw your hands across his chest. Fingers tracing the outlines of muscles through his robes before you settle for brushing your thumb lightly over a nipple, coaxing the bud to stiffen beneath your fingertip as you draw small circles through the fabric. 

You smile, something almost callous before continuing. “While endearing to witness, did you assume this to be a brisk encounter? Or could it be that it’s been quite a while since you last f—”

You’re cut off, a low growl of your name slipping from his parted lips. Even though it’s your official title he hisses, it sends a sharp ping of desire racing through you that sits in the pit of your gut and between your spread legs while you remain straddling him. A warning, you realize as your bottom lip is tugged between your teeth while peering back at him. 

For a moment there's silence, your thumb working tirelessly to tease his hardened nipple. You take it between your fingers, pinching sharply and enjoying the sight of his back lifting from the desk beneath the two of you as he arches slightly into your touch. The motion has you sliding back, his hips jerking upwards to meet you before you stop your bodies from slotting together.

“Ah,” you hum after a time, that damned mocking tone returning. “But you are correct, it’s impolite of me to make such allegations against such a _desirable_ individual—such as yourself. Allow me to make amends.”

With that you shift your hips, moving to sit on your knees above his still covered crotch. Lahabrea watches with bated breath as one of your hands drew slowly up your exposed leg, lifting your robes higher to expose more skin as you settled against the distinct straining in his trousers. The breath only to be released as a drawn-out sigh as you roll your hips against him, grinding yourself lightly in his lap as a faint gasp slips from your own lips, head falling to the side once more as you smirk at him.

His fingertips drag downward from their perch on your waist to dig into your hips, struggling to refrain from applying more pressure and coaxing you into grinding against him more vigorously as your current pace eases none of the ache he feels, merely serving to tease and frustrate him further with the lack of friction.

He’s aware that it’s what you want from him. To have him pleading beneath you and falling apart at the seams, but even as his mind clouds and his body becomes continually more desperate for your touch, he tells himself he wouldn’t stoop to pleading. No matter what sensation you deny him, or saccharine words you used to persuade him otherwise.

He only hoped he had the resolve.

Your hair spills over your shoulders with each move you make, an almost hypnotic shimmer in the faint light of his office that he’s powerless to look away from and leaves his fingers itching to touch. He feels your body press down onto him with more force, rewarding him with the contact he’s become desperate for.

It’s not nearly enough to satisfy the ache he feels—the growing pulsation developing within his cock that has his mind melting into dull heat. Yet his pride won’t allow him to voice how he craves so much more from you than this briefly rewarding friction your bodies make when rutting together. Won’t allow him to express how he craves your warmth, the sensation of slick muscles growing taut around him and driving him towards a far more rewarding release.

“Perhaps the honorable Speaker desires further compensation for my impudence.” Your sickly-sweet voice breaks his thoughts, demanding his attention once more. 

Gaze shifts to observe a second hand gradually draw up your opposite leg to expose plush thighs that beg to be touched, his eyes lingering on the sight as the muscles flex beneath the surface with each roll of your hips.

A click of your tongue breaks his focus and has him following the movement of your hand once more as you bunch your robes around your waist and dig your knees into his sides. It’s an alluring sight, one he realizes you’re counting on employing against him as it allows a clearer view to watch your hips work. Rolling and grinding down against him in earnest and dragging your clothed sex directly over the swelling in his trousers. 

The imaginary has him swallowing down a growing lump in his throat, mouth feeling uncomfortably dry while seeing his own hips shift upwards to thrust against you. Observing the slow drag your body makes against him as the two of you work tirelessly to achieve a fraction of pleasure. Each slide against him feels more frustrating than the last, yet equally delicious as the friction of his clothing scraping against his cock is better than the alternative of suffering with nothing.

“I’ve wanted you too, Lahabrea,” you admit with a breathy sigh. Your words accompanied by a leisurely roll of your hips across his crotch, body trembling as his fingers dig into you and urge you to apply more pressure against him. “Bound beneath me so those pesky hands can’t get in the way as I work you up and up, merely to leave you to make a satisfying mess of yourself.”

The only response he can muster is a feeble groan of your name, the building of heat intensifying and pooling in his stomach and between his legs. It pained him to admit, but it would seem you were well on your way to achieving just that if the increased throbbing of his constrained cock was any indication.

“Oh, the ways I would see that brilliant tongue of yours put to a better use than seeing it squandered on debates and pleasant lectures that fall on deaf ears.”

He could give you that, he thinks, if it was what you desired of him. Allow him to instead compose his lectures of a far more private nature across the pliable flesh of your inner thigh. Keen tongue eager and willing to carve his truths into your skin while your legs wrap around and secure him in place.

So long as you oblige him with the feeling of your hands in his hair, coiling locks around fingertips that pull and lead him towards where you needed him most. Sighing soft, saccharine praises from above while your heels dig into his back and scrape along his spine as you come undone before him.

Meeting your heavy gaze, he thinks he sees the evanescent shift in your eyes before they flutter closed. A moment of bliss that doesn’t last nearly long enough as it rolls through you each time you rock your hips into him, bodies slotting together perfectly and producing enough friction between you to pull a low gasp from your lips. 

Your hands clench his robes, pulling tightly to anchor yourself as he catches a faint twitching of your thighs on each side of him, both digging into his sides sharply before the tension is released a split second later.

“Lahabrea,” you sigh from above, voice scarcely above a whisper. It rings so sweet in the night air, so passionate compared to every other utterance of his name that he almost forgets the game you’re set on playing.

It lasts a mere breath before you restrain yourself, eyes slowly opening as you lean down to close the distance between you, yet remain lingering just out of his reach while shifting more of your weight onto him and pinning him flat against the desk beneath you.

"Our colleagues will be gathering soon," you whisper with a brush against his lips, the edges of your mask bumping his nose. "Does it not concern you, Speaker, to be lying here on your back, grinding your cock against me and still not having found release?"

"Perhaps if you would be less callous, we'd be through here." 

"Careful now, with a tone like that—" 

You talk and taunt far too much he's decided, shifting forward and claiming your lips before you have the chance to finish what surely would have been another eye rolling comment.

He feels you laugh against him in response, an enchanting sound that only aids to the fluttering he feels in his chest when your hands move into his hair, fingers gently carding through tangled locks.

You break his kiss, a soft murmur coming from you that's muffled against his lips. "Just tell me what you want." 

You. 

He wants _you_. So profoundly that he’s starting to not care how ludicrous it may be or even the ramifications of him making you understand just how much he wants you.

“Daft thing,” He sighs and drags his fingers over the curves of your hips and across your thighs as he whispers. Reveling in the feeling of warm, pliant flesh beneath his fingertip. “I’m uncertain how to facilitate it any better than I previously have.”

There’s a pause that allows him to collect his thoughts and swallows his pride. “I want _you_ —I care not _how_ , so long as I’m chasing euphoria with _you_.”

You look utterly taken back with the statement. The weak sound of your breathing hitching in your throat hits his ears, your eyes widening beneath your mask as the shock lasts a mere second before easing into something else. There's a kindling of warmth in your eyes, something he's only ever witnessed from a far when you spoke of your passions to colleagues. Never has he seen it directed towards himself, nor the affection that came with it.

You were determined to hear the words from his mouth, why now did you seem startled by them? Had he not admitted to you previously his desires? Perhaps his own unwarranted malice had caused you to have your suspicions.

“Ah, I see." You breathe against him after his words fully register with you. The vaguest trace of a smile on your lips before you’re closing what little distance is between you for another kiss, one that leaves him exhaling a sigh of contentment against you. 

Freely giving himself over as his hands slip to the small of your back, pulling you further against him and meaning to keep you there for a moment or two longer as the delightful sensation of you—your intoxicating aura, the all too pleasant taste and feel of you on his lips—engulfs him and renders everything around him into a pleasant, but dizzying haze of nothing.

You laugh lightly against his lips, murmuring something incomprehensible only for it to be swallowed by another kiss that led to another and another before you have to break away from him for a breath of air. Your fingers trail down over the column of his throat as his breathing slows beneath you, taking note to also not miss the way he swallowed thickly when your fingers linger.

“We should hurry.”

He means to reply, but you set to the task of making short work of his robes. Bunching them higher around his midriff and wasting no time freeing him from the hindrances of his trousers. He watches you move with a strange kind of fascination, watching as you use your opposite hand to push your garments aside, all the while shifting to sit on your knees. 

Meeting his gaze to be certain you have his full attention— _as if he could look anywhere else but the sight of you_ —you position the flushed head of his cock against your folds, drawing your lower lip between your teeth to stifle the smug grin that tugs at the edges of your mouth as you feel him twitch and tremble between your fingers. The heat that radiates from you leaves his skin crawling when your hips shift against him, allowing intense, tight heat to wrap around and consume him as a smothered groan creeps up his throat while watching his cock sink between your thighs.

Ilm by ilm, you lower yourself down onto him achingly slow despite your previous statement. A shiver rolling through you as your body stretches around him, there’s even the semblance of a delighted smile on your lips as your eyes flutter closed and you halt your movements halfway. Drawing your hips up before sinking into his lap with one swift motion. Allowing him to sink fully between your thighs as a high-pitched gasp tumbles from your lips when flesh meets.

He inhales sharply with the motion, biting his tongue to suppress the throaty groan that wants to escape; the reminder hitting him that anyone could easily hear if they were to walk past his office. The notion doesn’t particularly sit well with him, but it’s almost immediately washed aside and overlooked with the initial roll of your hips and the mind-numbing, smoldering heat that slams into him and all but drowns his senses as it builds and pools in his gut. Steady pressure gradually intensifies and swells with each thrust against you that allows his cock to slide easily back into your warmth. 

It all has his mind melting further into a jumbled haze of nothing but dull heat that begs for more friction, more tight, wet warmth wrapped around him. Leaving him desperately fighting back every pleading whine that demands to slip through as each roll of your hips against him comes quicker and harder than the last and has him teetering closer towards that blissful edge that his body desperately seeks.

Your head cants to the side as you move against him from above, watching him writhe beneath you while a delighted hum echoes in your throat as you reach down to touch him. Trailing your fingers across his jaw, mesmerized by the flexing of muscles beneath fingertips as they glide along with feather-light strokes. 

Taking your time to trace a nail along his lips and the curvature of his jaw, marveling at the slight bobbing in his throat as he forces himself to swallow down every minor noise of pleasure that creeps up on him. The semblance of a conceited smile on your face as you observe how his brow furrows every time your bodies meet.

“Has anyone told you just how lovely you are, Speaker?” You coo sweetly from above between your own muted gasps, feeling him tremble beneath you before dragging you down onto him for a rough thrust that’s meant to silence you.

A shuddering moan causes your words of sincere praise to die on your tongue as the motion sends your head spinning. “And he claims _I’m_ callous.”

Lahabrea scoffs in response, low and dismissive as his eyes drift closed while your fingers dip lower still, a gratifying shiver rolling down his spine at your touch. A thumb presses lightly into the column of his throat and his heart stills as the digit lingers. He doesn't resist, so gradually, you apply more pressure until coaxing a muted groan of approval from him.

It's good. 

He feels you press into him, fingers wrapping tentatively around his throat—sharper and tighter—until he’s left just barely feeling smothered by the hitching of air in his throat.

 _Real_ good.

Unable to explain why, he only knows that the sensation of your thumb pressing into him and fingers wrapping around him, dictating just how deep a breath he's allowed is delicious. His head spins and his eyes flutter open to find your gaze, pupils blown wide and dark, silently begging you for more pressure.

Meeting his gaze, you see the intensity in them. The raw, pleading hunger that burns brightly beneath thick lashes that gleams and draws you in until you’re leaning over him once more. The pointed edges of your mask digging into his skin as your lips skim along the underside of his jaw to whisper pretty words he isn’t certain are sincere. He can’t focus on that now, though. Not when his head spins with the dizzying sensation he feels when your grip around him fluctuates with each roll of your hips.

Idly he wonders in the back of his mind if you press into him with enough force, if he'll be branded by your touch. Left with an array of flowering blemishes beneath thick robes that only the two of you were privy to.

His chest tightens, heart fluttering at the notion of returning to his seat among your shared peers as marks in the shape of your fingertips develop against his skin. Perhaps there would even be time afterwards to peel his robes away and admire them with you in private.

There's a glint in your eye when you pull back and press your fingers into him. A look of astonishment, perhaps a morbid curiosity—how tight is too tight for delicate flesh—before it dissipates and to his dissatisfaction, the pressure of your thumb against him relents. 

A full breath of air returning as you proceed to drift your explorative touches down further. He misses the weight of your fingers already as he feels them instead slip down his body. Over the expanse of his heaving chest, his stomach, and through the patch of hair trailing from his navel downwards.

"So very lovely."

He feels himself flushing with the words, wishing for the return of his mask to hide behind as the heat radiating through his body becomes unbearable far too quickly under your adoration.

“Will you please j—” He’s cut off, his hand shooting up to cover his mouth as a strangled sob threatens to fill the night air as he feels your knees press into his sides. Wicked thing that you are, willing your body to clench around him so wonderfully it leaves him seeing stars dancing behind his eyes. 

It's too much, he thinks. Having been worked up and toyed with for your own amusement, the squeezing of your body around him and your silken heat easily overpower and rob his weary body of his senses as the world around him spins.

Release is sudden, white-hot and intense with a faint sob of your name behind his hand. You must have sensed it coming, he feels you lift from him as his mind screeches to an immediate halt, body stiffening beneath you as he slips from your warmth, cock trembling and spilling his release across his abdomen. For a moment his vision is obscured by stars, the coiling tension he feels in his gut and thighs dissipating as he’s left feeling sticky and much too hot.

The end is unsatisfying. He craves more as the euphoria he feels at having only made a mess of himself is meager and fleeting and—

“Just in time, it would seem.” Your voice alarms him, drawing his attention to see you grin down at him. Quite pleased with yourself by the looks of it. 

How he hates it. It crosses his mind that nothing would please him more than to wipe it off your smug face. Because something within him desperately needs to know and hear that you’re as overwhelmed as he is instead of seeing you remove yourself from him so soon. A ping of envy running through him as he watches you pull yourself to your feet while adjusting your robes.

A hand stretches out beside him to feel for his mask as his head sinks back against the desk. There wasn’t time to properly compose himself, the council would convene any moment now, and far too many eyebrows would be raised if he paraded in late with you in tow. Already being able to hear the countless and taunting questions from his peers should they find out, a small groan of irritation slipping from his lips with the thought.

He feels hot staring at the ceiling. Boiling and smothered by his own robes. Body agitated and unsatisfied despite having achieved a much needed release. These were far from the results he had in mind when he had given in to your teasing and admitted he had harbored feelings for you.

But he realizes, as you turn back towards him to lean against and press your lips to his abdomen, leaving a string of kisses and flicks of your tongue that don’t last nearly long enough, that these results were more than satisfactory as his hands reach for your hair.

It occurs to him as he’s left inhaling deeply when he feels the sudden drag of your tongue against his cock, that your shared peers could perhaps stand waiting on him for a change.

**Author's Note:**

> An [enabling, incredibly kind book club](https://discord.gg/qcQPaYZpkY) inspired this. If you're a fic writer, or just enjoy reading ffxiv related fics you should stop by. It's always Lahabrea bullying hours there~


End file.
